Written Expression And Inspiration

This is a dump for all my writing thoughts, prompts, and inspiration.

[lamignonette]

albert aublet

[voynichs]

british romanticism: i went into the woods and i found a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t really a woman, she was my Muse and the woods is my mind

american romanticism: i went into the woods and found the devil and he gave me a clock, but the clock was actually the industrial revolution and it fucking killed me

[bullyfemme]

If you were scared to go to bed at night because of a horror movie then fiction has an effect on reality.

If you felt validated by seeing someone like you in a show or movie then fiction has an effect on reality.

If you were angry that a character in your favorite book was betrayed then fiction has an effect on reality.

If you cried because of a subtle, sad moment in a TV show then fiction has an effect on reality.

Fiction - books, movies, TV shows - makes us feel things. It intrigues us. We explore thoughts through it. It can normalize things - like, putting gay and trans characters in kids shows, for example, or having a PSA episode about eating disorders. And this can be a force for good. But it can also normalize things like rape and pedophilia. Fiction does not exist in a bubble and morality doesnt go away.

[palevirgin]

[andruwminyrd]

“She stood there: she listened. She heard the names of the stars.”

— Virginia Woolf, from The Complete Works; “Mrs Dalloway,” c. 1925 (via carol-danvers)

[michaelgrays]

“The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars.”

— Unknown (via qvotable)

[amargedom]

““Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.””

— Sylvia Plath (via amargedom)

[notkatniss]

I’m losing my mind hoziers explanation for moments silence is being on genius dot com and being like oh y’all want a song about oral sex???

[notkatniss]

[smallishgay]

have you ever found a line in a book or song that resonates in your bones and you just want to paint it on your walls and tattoo it across every inch of your body

[merildae]

“In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference.”

— Ernest Hemingway - A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

[terrypratchettparadise]

“The night was as black as the inside of a cat.  It was the kind of night, you could believe, on which the gods moved men as though they were pawns on the chessboard of fate.  In the middle of the elemental storm a fire gleamed among the dripping furze bushes like the madness in a weasel’s eye.  It illuminated three hunched figures.  As the cauldron bubbled an eldritch voice shrieked:  ‘When shall we three meet again?’ There was a pause. Finally another voice said in far more ordinary tones:  ‘Well I can do next Tuesday.’”

- Terry Pratchett - Wyrd Sisters

[meepmeepmeep]

(via Were I So Besotted)

[aprilsfolly]

clear glass softened in the sea

worn down to cloudy apathy

cracked and shattered on the shore

sharpened by what i abhor

[signorformica]

Trois femmes et trois loups. Eugène Grasset ~ ca.1892 Bibliothèque Infernale on FB

[aesthesiamag]

Yuanxing Liang’s Epic Sculptures

Epic sculptures by Yuanxing Liang, graduate of the Sichuan Academy of Fine Arts (China) 

[thewickedwilds]

A woman traveling into the dark woods to an evil witch’s house to trade her firstborn child for selfish desires sounds a lot like a demonized version of a woman traveling to see a cunning woman to aid her with an unwanted pregnancy js

[wifiwife]

Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes.

Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.

The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (1982)